


'Cause Tonight's the Night the World Begins Again

by BabylonsFall



Series: Warp & Weft [3]
Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Episode: s01e04 And Santa's Midnight Run, Gen, Missing Scene, Pre-Canon, not really but I don't really know what to tag it as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 07:31:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11527494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabylonsFall/pseuds/BabylonsFall
Summary: Christmases for the LiTs before the Library's Christmas adventure.





	'Cause Tonight's the Night the World Begins Again

**Author's Note:**

> Look! It's a fluffy (for me) Librarians work! I can write stuff without angst, who knew.
> 
> And I'm aware it's July and nowhere near Christmas, but, what can I say. I'm rewatching the Librarians and this popped up as an idea and it got written.
> 
> That said, this was written in about... two hours? Without my glasses. So I apologize for any mistakes! Enjoy!

Christmas was, and probably always would be, Cassandra’s favorite holiday. Attempts by her parents aside, Cassandra had never quite been able to shake the wonder and awe that most children have come the holiday season. She was as excited as any other toddler, as eager to sing the carols, watch the movies, bedazzle and glitterbomb poor defenseless cardboard, foam, and paper into proper ornaments as the next chubby-cheeked, sugar hyped child.

Even without the idea of Santa Claus, without the wonder effused in the idea that there was a whole other world out there filled with magic, where reindeer could fly and her wishes could be granted, little Cassandra Cillian was not to be convinced that there was _no_ magic at all in this world. Her parents may have burst her bubble on Santa, but she was still a little kid.

Christmas carols that started to play at just the right time, a smile and a holiday sticker from the lady at the cash register, new unbroken snow covering the ground and shooing everyone inside for the morning to enjoy hot cocoa, a new Christmas special starting right as she turned on the tv as her and her parents settled on the couch for the night, gifts piling up (both properly wrapped ones and those messes of tape and paper that she’d helped with, front and center), her and her parents decorating a new tree and that first night watching it light up all gilded and glittering.

Cassandra wasn’t quite old enough to articulate it as magic, but it filled her with awe just the same.

So Santa wasn’t real, the little girl reasoned (after a long bout of crying and pouting, of course, she was after all only three), it didn’t mean the season wasn’t any less of a joy.

As she got older, her quiet list of Christmas magic only grew. Small smiles from friends when she gave them their gifts, a snow-day at school just when the week was going downhill, a surprise day off from her parents - spent by a fire and a well worn-in Christmas special - the eager restlessness of her classmates as the minutes ticked down to winter break.

Her parents proud smiles as her grades soared and soared as she took on winter break to study and shoot forward, always forward.

The soft fall of fresh snow, blanketing the world beyond her hospital room and quieting her racing mind, just for that perfect moment before the streetlights flickered to life.

A warm cup of coffee, paid for by a stranger she didn’t catch, watching the hustle and bustle of the cafe around her.

Finding out Santa Claus was real after all.

Finding a family to spend a real Christmas with again.

The Christmas spirit never left Cassandra Cillian. She held onto it with all the might chubby, three year old little hands could. And for all this last Christmas was exciting and terrifying and new, it was still magic, and all she could ever wish for.

\---

When he could manage it, Ezekiel always tried to spend Christmas somewhere warm. Not that he didn’t like snow - he loved it. Perfect for harmless pranks and sudden snow ball fights in a park full of unsuspecting but generally game people. Perfect for quiet nights where he could pretend he was the only person in the world, with no one chasing him, either away or to catch.

But, generally speaking, warm places meant he could stay out later, get away quicker (no footprints or muddied snow tracks), and people tended to stay out and about longer the warmer it was. Shops stayed open later and people could be found wandering the squares and shops longer. It was perfect honestly.

So, when he could manage, warmer places it was for the holidays.

He kept his pickpocketing to those that could afford it - and really, what better time to pinpoint a mark than to hang around the expensive outlets and see who wandered out. Wasn’t his fault they were advertising their wealth and luck more than usual - snagged whatever took his fancy from stores too flooded to keep an eye on everyone, treated himself to things he’d normally leave alone (sweets and wines and credit cards generally had expiration dates too close or couldn’t be sold back around), spent more (or, you know, actual) money on a proper suite wherever he was to enjoy his spoils and generally just relaxed far more than usual.

If he wanted, there was never a lack of parties he could invite himself to, especially coming up on New Years, but, honestly, he preferred a quieter Christmas. Just himself - maybe a friend would pop in, depending on which city he found himself in - watching the city go by beneath him as night fell on Christmas Eve, maybe until the sun rose again on Christmas day.

It wasn’t the quiet of a snow-muffled night, but it was peaceful just the same.

Sometimes - rarely - he wondered what it’d be like to spend a “normal” Christmas somewhere. Let himself get swept up in the holiday spirit that people were always going on about. Buying gifts for someone just because, going out of his way to brighten up someone’s day just because he happened to have enough that week, looking forward to the looks on people’s faces when they too got caught up in everything.

Then he wondered why people always made a big deal about doing that around the holidays. If it was so great, why not try it always? Oh, right, because people were grubby little things and he had a lack of faith in humanity to preserve. So, Christmases alone, treating himself, enjoying the quiet, and watching cities light up at his feet like the best kind of Christmas lights. Sounded about right to him.

He didn’t think he’d get the chance really, to just… be good. Without really trying, anyway.

It was as pointless as he’d thought it’d be.

And, if he had a bit of fun along the way with his weird group of friends, well, no one needed to know.

\---

If the holidays in the extended Stone family could be summed up in one word? Loud. Very loud, if you wanted two words.

The family was spread out all over the southwest. Only managed to make it all into one place one time a year, and they made the most of it. A full week leading up to Christmas, with family trickling in until the day of, and then everyone staying until the last cousin or aunt or nephew got kicked out sometime after New Years.

He was genuinely delighted to hear all the family news that had previously only been gained in snippets over phone calls and emails; loved watching his cousins and their kids grow up, year by year; sat just as eagerly with the other kids of the family to hear his grandparents and great-aunts and uncles start sharing old family stories, even if half of them were made up just to get rises out of the younger kids or to poke fun at whoever had earned their (well-meant but no less embarrassing) teasing that year.

And when the old folks closed ranks to drink and smoke and reminisce, and the younger kids were packed off by their parents to at least attempt to sleep, he got to catch up with his cousins. He still held that there weren’t enough of them to absolutely take over a bar, no matter what the bartender said - but he could admit, they were loud, not just in volume but in presence, and, if they (and himself, he could admit that) got it in their heads to get even louder either way, they could absolutely trash a place, initial intentions for a simple night out notwithstanding.

Christmas itself was always the highlight of the two-to-three week long mess. It didn’t matter how many were hungover, or nursing new shiners or stitches, everyone piled into the house as best they could, egging on the kids as piles of colored paper went flying, resolutely trying not to shed a tear as smaller, but no less heartfelt gifts were passed around, poking and ribbing at everyone who managed to forget someone that year, but would definitely make it up next year. And then all who pulled the short straw that year would be stuck on toy duty with the kids (opening the damn things. Half the time, the kids got new words to go with their new toys while their grandparents just laughed from their couches), while the rest piled into the kitchen to get dinner started.

It was that loudness, that sheer presence of the holidays that he could admit he missed at the Library.

And yet. He got his bar brawl - and another bar to check off as “not allowed back in. Ever.” - and he got to watch this new family of sorts light up just the same. He even had Jenkins there to grumble and groan about stories past.

It was different, sure, but it was a Christmas he recognized all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> (title is from Better Days by the Goo Goo Dolls)
> 
> Also, new! Come visit me on [ tumblr](https://distinctivelibrarians.tumblr.com) if you wanna talk about the Librarians - or wanna toss a prompt for the series my way!


End file.
